


Happy Valentine's Day, Mrs. Dewhurst!

by endemictoearth



Category: My Mad Fat Diary
Genre: F/M, Gen, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-04-08 13:40:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4307235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endemictoearth/pseuds/endemictoearth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finn gets his girlfriend flowers and is confused about why she's not happy about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Valentine's Day, Mrs. Dewhurst!

**Author's Note:**

> (This was written prior to Series 2.)

Fucking Valentine’s Day. Rae had hated it ever since she started school and she always got the least number of cards in her “mailbox” which was an old tissue box covered in glitter and stickers. It was a dumb tradition, carried on by primary school teachers who were desperate for something to break up the monotony of lessons between New Year and Easter. But Chloe always insisted on counting hers up, so everyone else did, too, and after everyone had announced their haul, they all turned to Rae to hear how few she had received. Those first few years, Chloe had given Rae a few of her cards to make the numbers up, but it was cold comfort to Rae. And when those cards started to possibly mean something, Chloe kept them all to herself.

It got harder every year, seeing everyone else get cards and flowers and teddy bears and heart shaped boxes from Thornton’s. One year she successfully faked sick on the 14th, and while it was a relief not having to witness all the tokens of affection being delivered, the squeals of delight and conspiratorial whispers, she forgot that there were several days of post-mortem and everyone turned into a pack of amateur detectives trying to figure out who sent the anonymous love notes. There was no escape from adolescent love expressed through construction paper and conversation hearts.

Last Valentine’s was dire. The worst yet. She was barely hanging on by a thread, only a few weeks away from a total breakdown. The twat brigade had serenaded her with some pop song, laughing like drains as she literally ran away from them and into the arms of the cupboard. 

This year, everything was different. She was better, stronger, and she had Finn. Still, she wasn’t a fan of Valentine’s Day. No matter how happy she’d grown to be with Finn, she didn’t think she’d ever forget the feeling of being left out of life. She saw people everywhere who had that look about them. She recognized herself in the sadness in their eyes, the slump of their shoulders, the nervous fidgeting of their fingers. And why should she celebrate a day that made so many people feel like shit?

Finn had other ideas about Valentine’s Day. His mum had always gotten him and his brother a little gift and some chocolates, set next to their cereal bowls as they came down in the morning. And his mum always came home to a bouquet of roses and then his dad would take her out for a meal. His parents didn’t need an excuse to show their affection for each other, but they seized every opportunity. For him, Valentine’s was a day sanctioned to show the people you loved that you loved them; it never occurred to him that others might not see it that way.

So when he showed up at Rae’s door with a bunch of red and white roses, he was genuinely confused when she scowled at them before he could even say Happy Valentine’s Day.

“What are those?” she asked, her voice testy.

“Just—what? They’re flowers. For you.” He paused, not sure what she was mad about, or what she was getting at. “For Valentine’s?” Her mouth was still set in a line; she wasn’t smiling and he couldn’t figure out what he’d done wrong. This felt worse than the time he’d said they’d go to the “sexy party” Anna was having without consulting her. 

“Well, thanks, but I don’t do Valentine’s.”

“Like, at all? I mean, we’re … together. Like, is it bad? To want to get you something nice?”

She sighed and he could see her hard candy shell start to melt just a little. “No, I guess not. It’s just … what it represents. More people feel bad on this day than get flowers, and they feel bad because other people get flowers. And it’s FEBRUARY, where are all these flowers coming from, anyway? There are probably exploited workers involved somewhere, and …” she trailed off, thinking she was probably getting carried away.

Finn let his arm go limp, the flowers swinging at the end of his hand. He might as well chuck these in the bin, if she hated Valentine’s so much. He wasn’t angry, but she definitely had the wind knocked out of his sails. 

“Wait!” Rae said suddenly. 

Finn’s head shot up. “What?” 

“I have an idea,” she smiled slyly and reached out to take the plastic wrapped flowers from his grasp. He smiled back and started to head inside, but she placed her hand on his chest and shook her head. “Nope, turn around.” He was confused, but shrugged and stepped back, allowing Rae to lead the way. She walked purposefully across the street, Finn trailed behind, and then she knocked on the door directly opposite.

After a minute, the door opened, and an elderly lady in a blue floral dress opened the door. “Rachel, hello!” she smiled and looked at Finn quizzically. “Is this your young man? What are you two doing here, and on Valentine’s Day?” 

“Hi, Mrs. D. Yes, this is Finn, and I—WE—wanted to bring you these.” Rae held up the bouquet, glanced over at Finn, and Mrs. Dewhurst’s wrinkled face crumpled in on itself, overcome with emotion. She sniffed and pulled a tissue out of her sleeve to dab at her eyes before blowing her nose like a trumpet. “You really shouldn’t have, Rachel. Are you sure? Are you sure these aren’t for you?” 

Finn stepped forward and said, “Nah, I tried to buy her some, but she said she didn’t like flowers for herself, but that you really liked them. So we picked these out … for you.”

He looked over at Rae, their eyes met, and the smile he had hoped would appear when he handed  _her_  the flowers was finally on her face.


End file.
